BoldUlysses.com

are you real or just a piece

of my imagination's lease?

drifting through my thoughts among

the other fancies seem so young

for wearied by the weight of air,

the insubstantial drifting there

your image in reality is more

than worlds of flesh and stone and war

or oceans with their swells of foam

capitulating toward their sandy home

receding ever, drawing nigh

doomed to crash there once and die

were they real, or like your eyes

caught up in that place of sighs

that bridge to stars and skies and plains

this beating of my heart remains

til air give way, and then i know

completeness floods my thoughts, they show

that words will cease, to take their place

will be realities of grace

I got everything done today except for that ever-elusive nap… Car group this morning was fun. Several guys showed who hadn’t come to the group last semester, and I provided munchies this time around, so a good time was had by all. Read the importracing community for more details. I shan’t cross-post.

Worked out again this evening. The tone is returning.

Fantastic concert, too. Mali rocked the house. I saw someone there I hadn’t seen in a long, long time, too. It was a bit surreal. And I will get up with Jamie sometime this week. I swear we’ve been playing phone tag for a month… *sigh* I should probably buy him dinner after all the rigamarole we’ve put each other through. Heh. We’ll see.

More. There is more. I remind myself to place my destiny in His hands again. Give me a passion, Lord. Renew everything I’ve ever known about You; make it fresh again. Show me the steps; don’t let me flail about anymore. I want to move with You, straight as an arrow again. Take away all this pride that hinders me, that clouds my ambitions, that makes them my ambitions in the first place and muddles my desires simply to move where You’re moving. I want You, Father. I need You. Give me Your heart for people. Show me where they’re hurting, show me the need, and give me the grace and wisdom to let You impact that need through me. Oh, Father, this is what I want more than anything. Come fill me again, Lord, please.

Almost got pulled over on the way to work this morning. Was heading east on 40, right before the Wade avenue split into Raleigh, and traffic was moving unusually slow for some reason… The speed limit is 65, but cars habitually cruise along at 75-80 with nary a care. I was going to be a little bit late, 5 minutes or so, and since I open the store, this is significant. I was having a bit of trouble navigating through traffic; a minivan was squatting in the left lane, and flying in formation beside it was a nondescript pickup. There are four lanes, and I was in the third over. Trucks were slowing on the right, and I was getting more than a little frustrated with the situation, so I did something I don’t usually do: from the third lane, doing about 65, I got just ahead enough of the pickup and as close to the car in front of me as I dared, downshifted to fourth, put on my blinker (I get points for this, yes?), punched it up to 80 or so, and swung over two lanes into the left lane in front of the minivan. Ahh. Free and clear. Woops. A couple cars ahead of the pickup sits the reason everyone’s doing the speed limit: a cruiser. He’s got his window rolled down for some reason and has evidently spotted my little maneuver, since he’s making some sort of hand motions out the window. It looks like he’s motioning for me to pull in front of him so he can pull me over. Ohhh no, we’re not going to do that. He’d get me for speeding (past him, duh) as well as my sudden cut across two lanes. If he’s going to get me, he’s going to have to slow down, tuck in behind me, and get me that way. By the book. I’ll just sit here and twiddle my thumbs at 65 and see what he does. Well, evidently he had bigger fish to fry, or didn’t feel like dodging traffic while slowing down so he could pull me over, since his window went up, I slid cautiously over into the right lane and low-profiled it the rest of the way to the store.

Busy day, too, to top it all off. I’m pretty good at multitasking, answering the phone, doing the deposit, keeping track of the indicators for the day, answering questions, ringing customers up, etc, but every once in a while things get a little hairy. I was ringing up a gentleman’s protein powder or some such thing; he handed me a credit card which wouldn’t scan. He made the typical comment that they had been having trouble with it. I said, “Looks like somebody hasn’t been doing their job at the credit card factory.” Yeah. Smooth.

Getting an apartment with Ashraf and Donald at the beginning of March. It’s a nice three-bedroom flat with a big living room. We’re on the second floor; the first floor is a garage, so we’ll have no neighbors above or below us to complain or be complained about. It’s amazing how similar we all are in temperament. I think we’re going to get along great. Not to mention we’ll have a pool (reservable for parties), gym, a little car wash facility, quiet area, and it’s barely in Chatham county, where they don’t do sniff tests on the cars during the annual inspection! Best ever! :o)

you left my heart / empty as a vacant lot / for any spirit to haunt

Why am I here on a forlorn Saturday night? Heaven only knows. I could be out who knows where. But I’m here, piecing together the first fragments of our website. I should have spent more time on it during the week, but life intervened.

I am me. I am myself. Do you ever look yourself straight in the mirror and repeat those phrases over and again, trying to grasp the reality of your existence? So much of our lives exists in such a narrow strata of the fathomless depth of who we really are, and we’ve populated that thin sliver of our outlook with worlds and worlds of tissue-paper reality, sand castles of habits, patterns, little mannerisms, and subtleties, all swept away with the inevitable tidal forces of openness and vulnerability, revealing the latticework underneath.

Where are you? Why aren’t you here?

Watched The Recruit earlier with some friends. Horribly inaccurate representation of the CIA, I’m sure, but it was good and genuinely suspenseful. I was getting a little bored in the middle of the movie, thinking it was too linear without enough plot twists and turns for a proper espionage film, but then the ending happens. You’ll just have to see it. Good flick.

The plot thickens, apartment-wise. Ashraf wants a roommate or possibly two when he renews his lease in early March. If Donald’s up for it, we might be moving down Farrington a ways to his apartment complex. It’s certainly attractive from the financial perspective, one of the key factors in this case. We’ll see. It’s a Friday night. I reserve the right to be apathetic about anything and everything for at least an hour or two.

I’ve had my car up on Autotrader lately, just for kicks and to see what kind of offers I would get, and was a bit surprised this week by the phone calls I’ve been receiving. The best one, the one that makes me smile to think about it, was a young man in the Chapel Hill area who wants to trade me his ’69 Plymouth Sport Fury for my Supra. Here’s an original dealer brochure of what this car looks like. Can you see me behind the wheel of one of these? Apparently his has less than 50K on it with a like-new interior. I’m going to go check it out tomorrow. Ha. This is the coolest ever.

Anyway. Going skiing in a few weeks again with the youth group as a leader. Was going to get my skis reconditionned, but took them in and the guy said it wasn’t even worth it to pay the money and have them wax them, the skis were in such bad shape. He said he wouldn’t even trust the bindings. Well, thanks. I really don’t want to rent skis and new skis aren’t cheap, especially for a tall individual like myself. Argh. I’ll figure it out.

Sunday notes:

1. Napped much too long today. Missed most of the Superbowl, including all the commercials. Oh well. I’m not really that hung up about the whole thing anyway.

2. Had gnocchi in tomato sauce for lunch today. Haven’t had that in a long time, and not that good since France, for certain.

3. One of my rear speakers in the car blew out last week, which I find very odd. It’s an Infinity Kappa. Their sound quality is undeniable, but as far as quality of manufacture I haven’t been impressed with Infinity products, including a headunit that we used to have for the minivan.

4. Driving back from the coffeehouse last night, I actually drove around the neighborhood for a little bit instead of going straight home because the song wasn’t finished… Haven’t done that in a long time.

5. The concert two Saturdays ago was great fun. It made me want to go out and buy a Billie Holiday album, among others.

6. I manned my little station this morning during the care group fair at church. I’m leading a group called “Car Guys” which encourages fellowship and provides instruction for guys in the church with an interest in cars. We’re going to do a few “Car Care Saturdays” this semester too where we’ll minister to some of the single parents and others in the church by changing oil and checking stuff for free. This morning, in order to attract a little more attention to my corner of the table, I brought a couple of car parts from the garage, and offered candy canes as prizes to anyone who could name them. It was a big hit. The only problem was that little boys would ask their dads what the parts were so they could get candy canes, then the little boys would tell all their friends, and I would have a line of boys leading up to the table ready to recite, “It’s an intake manifold,” and receive their candy cane. I have to do this next week too, and I only have so many candy canes, so I had to draw the line and say, “Sorry guys, share these.”

7. Financial seminar at the church yesterday went well. Had the odd side effect of really, really making me want someone else in my life (s.o, fiancee, wife) that I could plan finances with and plan the future with. Maybe part that was my tiredness? Not sure.

heaven’s white rose the doors you open / I just can’t close

across the rain-soaked cobblestones, the streaked, glimmering blacktop, through the acres of passing evergreens, cables strung overhead and blue sky, clouds entering the patches of light, laughter filling the tangible air between the chords of the music, jangling with the cadence of the road, slowing, breathing, slowly breathing, thinking about the blur that stretches between the edges of the window, and you, long steps of silence, nothing but our thoughts to recommend us, time, distance, days, weeks, seasons between us…

Almost to the quarter century mark… There’s a thought. Not for a year yet, though. It was a good birthday. Rushed, but good. Work was interminably slow, but after I left at 2:30 I hurried back to Chapel Hill, ran by Kinko’s and got the mini portfolio laminated (it looks good), and headed over to the office for a few minutes. Got a little more done on the CC website, then drove back home (I did a lot of driving today) for the birthday dinner and presents. Dinner was chicken in a white sauce with cooked carrots, broccoli, and steamed rice. So good. I got a nice sports watch, a clock radio, some touch-up paint for my car, a six-month gym membership, and a big 4×4′ sheet of aluminum. Didn’t get my skis reconditionned… Apparently the 15-year old skis aren’t even safe to ski on anymore (or so says the technician at the ski shop). Oh well. Went to the Wednesday meeting at church, fellowshipped for a good bit afterwards, and now here I am at Donald’s again (almost certainly soon to be my new home). Everyone else except Wes and me is asleep… It’s nice to have the big earmuff headphones :o)

but none of it does compare / to her eyes

My eyes close around me again, and the night comes sleeping into my limbs. It’s a bitter cold outside, the kind that makes your throat burn to breathe, especially under exertion. Running felt better after I had had a chance to come inside and let my lungs recuperate. A shower and shave do wonders, too.

During the run I heard an altogether unfamiliar sound: leaves rustling in the wind in the dead of winter. I looked up just as I passed underneath a deciduous tree of some genus that hadn’t surrendered its leaves. Dead branches, I thought, or tree. Just noteworthy… Draw from it what metaphors you will.

The moon is beautiful, too. It’s a paradox how these things, parts of our universe, can seem so beautiful, so accessible, and yet be orders of magnitude farther away that those ugly things we surround ourselves with. Maybe it’s their distance that creates a part of the beauty. Even the distance is a contradiction, in a sense: the stars are light-years away, but all we have to do is step outside on a cold, clear night to witness them. They’re available, so to speak, but their ability to inspire emotions of awe and wonder seems limitless. Bigger than the scope of our lives? Perhaps. I feel like I’m going around in circles now, so I will venture to become one with the blankets and say goodnight.

You dream of a future…a possible place
Where we lie together, face to face
And I’m looking forward
I will not deny
I dream of a future made for you and I
You and I

I’ll take a little Duncan Sheik mixed with a cold night, driving home under the streetlights… There’s a name for that, but it escapes me at the moment. Update here, then bed. Life is quietly exciting. Quiet during the day, exciting because of the startings-up taking place: the business, new possibilities, relationships, groups of friends, etc.

Quiet… It’s a hushed room, lamps glowing.

Here’s a preview image of the new Campus Connection website. It will be interactive and such once we get the site permissions figured out. Need to call them. The bulk of it should be up by the end of the week. A lot depends on content and what I get from Luis… We’ll see. I love doing this, though. Learning lots.

Sleep. Blankets. Warmth. Night.

I look through the darkness into the sky
The moon up above me brilliantly shines
I’ve never been happier watching it glow
I’m here by myself, but I know I’m not alone…I’m not alone

There is a point, in every conversation I’ve experienced, where the elements and the substance of the words makes the transition from banter to a real connection of friends. That’s putting it lightly. It’s almost like the early stages of the conversation and the relationship are searching, grasping for a common element, a shared response or trait on which to rest our emotions, and if the searching continues too long, the whole environment becomes a little wearisome. As significant as that transition is, it’s notable that we often can’t recall that point. Well, I’ll speak for myself, but when I think back it feels like it’s always been that way: that Brian and I have always loved to talk about last week’s SNL, that Aaron and I can shoot the breeze about anything car-related, and that Elyse and I can banter on about Star Trek and music… It’s a point I’m striving towards in several of my friendships. Common experiences have the boon of speeding the process along. I sound all clinical and austere about it, but I’m that way about a lot of things when I step back and take a look at the bigger agenda and pick up on patterns. Maybe I just overanalyze. Who knows… C’est ma vie.

in full bloom

companionship
to take
her hand
beautiful
ethereal
true

1. I’m wiped out. I’ve been going about 300 miles per hour all day, and I didn’t even want to get up this morning. Whew.

2. Hung out with Ashraf and Aaron today (both separately). I want to organize a get-together with Mike, Donald, Ashraf, Matt A, and Aaron. The car guys, basically. I’m thinking Applebee’s or something (someplace cheap). Yeah, that’d be fun.

3. My birthday is soon. If you’re wondering about what to get me, anything car-related. Anything. Go to Autozone and grab something off the shelf and I will love you forever. Well, not really, and most of you are probably pondering not what to get me, but whether to get me anything at all or just to blow the whole thing off and sit at home eating stale chips and watching M*A*S*H reruns on TNN in a sweatsuit that hasn’t been washed in weeks and burping musically rather than attending my super-deluxe extra-crispy birthday party. Yeah, it’s gonna rock your socks. More details soon.

4. I like my car. Especially coming home, turning onto Stagecoach Rd from 751 and getting wholly sideways for a good 50 feet. Oversteer, check. Good thing there wasn’t anyone trying to turn left at the intersection :o)

Busy days at GNC have a tendency to erode my ability to pitch and/or explain a product well. During an especially busy interlude just after lunch a lady came in the store looking for colon cleanser, a commonly searched-for item, believe it or not. I showed her our digestive health section. She was looking for something in pill form for her mother, so I pointed out the two products we carry that lined up closest to what she was looking for, but just before I turned around to attend to another customer, I heard myself say something to the effect of, “Both the powder and the pills work well, but the pills are going to take longer, since you need a decent amount of material to clean you out in one shot.” I somehow waited on the next customer, but after the coast was clear I thought to myself, “What in the world…?” Yep, I’m a salesman.

Almost done with the mini-portfolio… It’s completely different to see it printed out versus on the computer screen where everything is large. It’s something I need to do regularly to keep things in perspective. After I finished the five pages I had done today, I stood up from the chair and took a good look at the computer screen. I felt something I hadn’t felt in a long time, pondering the little vignettes staring back at me–the thrill of creation. The thought that a day ago, those images, messages, patterns didn’t exist, but that they were brought to life and can influence people to a certain extent because of the time and care I invested in their formation. It was a great feeling.

Not only that, but we’ve got the office set up downstairs at Donald’s house. It’s very studio-ish, but with enough computer equipment and peripherals to make it feel a little Matrix-y :o) I still need to put up some artwork on the walls. It’s nice to be able to just turn around and see what Donald’s up to, and for him to be able to do the same with me. He’s editing a music video at the moment for a local band, and as soon as I assemble the portfolio and business cards, the promotion (i.e. shameless commerce) will begin. Rock.

My birthday’s in three weeks, too! I’ll have to surrender my status as a prime number for about six years, but I’ll survive. Man I’m a geek. Okay, bedtime :o)

Drove through the Cobb parking lot earlier tonight on my way home…for old times’ sake, though time really isn’t that old–three and a half months. She came to Elyse’s party earlier tonight but had to head off to another shindig shortly after she and Ivona arrived. I hope she had fun.

Elyse’s party was wonderful, no doubts there. We played a very entertaining game of charades, listened to the wrong U2 song at midnight, and clawed our way through games of five-player hearts and BS, and just had a great time eating cookies and pizza and talking… I hope you feel better soon, Elyse. Let me know if I can help out at all.

Misty night, which will only exacerbate the likely mayhem on the roads. It was a long day at work, nine hours by myself, without a singular customer during what was probably the last hour and a half. Sam, dutiful manager that he is, poked his nose in the store for about five minutes, muttered something about the traffic, and promptly took off again, when he was supposed to work with me for a couple of hours at least. Whatever… I have a headache which I’m certain is simply from sheer tiredness. Busy day tomorrow with Donald and with the annual old friends get-together at our house this year. I’m really looking forward to seeing everyone again. Who knows, maybe I’ll even have time to wash my car.

Happy New Year!

The business is getting off the ground, finally. After a few weeks of putting together the groundwork, Donald and I have a couple of minor clients. We still need to assemble the office and work out a pay scale, but we’ve got a logo, a business card, and a website coming along. I couldn’t ask for a better partner in this whole endeavor. He spent the night last night and we must have stayed up til 3 or 4 postulating and thinking/dreaming about the business… It was a great time.

*sigh*

Tired now… Used my Barnes & Noble gift card to get an early Massive Attack album. I’d been meaning to introduce myself to them for a long time. I was torn between “Blue Lines” and “Protection.” I opted for the earlier album… It’s nice to have a birthday coming up so I can ask for the subsequent work.

Organizing a ski trip. Anyone up for a day trip to Wintergreen or some such place? Let me know.

Merry Christmas!

Pretty low-key this year, which was nice. The rest of my family except for Paul and I are leaving tomorrow morning at 4 to go to Florida for David’s soccer tournament. They’ll be back by New Year’s Eve, most likely. Paul and I will hold down the fort for a little while. Should be fun :o)

I got a bunch of tools, including a long extension set, a set of metric deep sockets, some really nice pliers, an inductive timing light, and a big rolling toolbox to put it all in. Never mind that I already have a toolbox. You can never have too many toolboxes. I got a calendar with old travel posters, the new Beth Orton cd, the 1990-2000 U2 hits cd, and a couple of video games, among them Gradius 3 and 4, updated for the PS2. If only I had R-Type, my video game life would be complete.

And what would Christmas be without several new pairs of socks?

Christmas lights are one of the most ill-conceived inventions ever foisted on an unsuspecting consumer public with the intent of promoting a festive holiday spirit. The ones in our house are sentient. They have a consciousness, and a malevolent one at that, never mind their facade as pretty little lights. They purpose to tangle, every bulb with every other bulb during the process of unravelling, with the sole intent of irritating the socks off of me. There’s no other rational, level-headed explanation for it. Couldn’t be.

*sigh*

At least the little beasties are on the tree. Did some Christmas shopping last night with Aaron… I don’t think we have a clue how to shop. We mapped out a route that would allow us to cover the entire mall in the most efficient manner, and we executed surgical shopping strikes in select stores, entering, making a beeline for the gift, purchasing, then evacuating the area with minimum of disturbance. It was fun hanging out with him.

Christmas party at my house this Saturday at 7:30. You’re all invited if you’re in the area and free that evening :o)

crossing the appenines, she came down
Who shall I woo, said he.
temperate into her feelings, lake and
down again
the change of the song speaks volumes untold to me
--remain, said she.
flight, above the sundries of the simple air
moments passing, drowned into the
future of us
how can this be
soon, said he. ..
there's something in it,
like the drop-stained greenness of the leaf
in your virgin palm--
fire, its embers hidden
the new valley, breathe the air between us
.said she

Register tape poetry and half-hearted price changes at work are beginning to get me down. My boss loves me because I do what he tells me to do, but there’s more. There’s just more, and I’ve known it all along. I’ve filled out my teaching application and found my references… I just need to talk to principals now. Middle school art. The prospect of teaching it scares me to death, but I know that if I did the strength and level-headedness that it takes would come from a source altogether without me. We’ll see. I want to talk to Jim Adams about being a student teacher at Jordan HS first.

There is…
are, pictures,
there, and a
breath not taken.

Snow is falling outside, or was so very recently. It’s probably changed over to freezing rain or some such thing by now. Traffic was a mess trying to get home from Cary. I have to open the store tomorrow at 10, too. Please pray for safety. I don’t want to get stuck in a ditch or wrapped over a guardrail tomorrow morning. The snowflakes were amazing on the way home, though, large enough that I felt like I could catch them in the palm of my hand before they piffed on the hood and windshield. It’s always amazing to observe snow or rain from a distance as the sheets scroll downwards in front of the dark trees… It just gives you an appreciation of the scale of the weather that’s cascading down on us. To amuse myself on the long drive home, I scootched forward in the seat, put my face underneath the edge of the windshield, and drove into the snowstorm trying not to blink at the incoming flakes. It wasn’t easy. The windshield deflects everything, of course, but my mind is programmed to blink. The best I could do were a few hesitant half-blinks in the midst of the bombardment. Otherwise, the two hour drive from Cary made from some great car singing, as I went through about three cds of music.

It’s a winter wonderland.

The days grow colder around the house like a blanket of winter. The pressure gradient steepens and whips around us, bearing the leaves from their perches in processions of autumnal rain, setting the forest alight with the bustle of preparation before the stillness of the coming months. The tiptoeing of the piano keys drops into my ears like icicles of pure sound, ringing with cold echoes. I draw the blankets closer around me and sip the warmth, embers of my mind leaping, crackling, giving life again to the air between us. Confessions come and go and the distance remains. The season will be that much colder without the soft exhalations of your nearness.

mix your senses
smell the touch of the look, and
breathe his eyes--a
neverending fabric of sky, lift
all your senses into his embrace, and
become,
become
be

In the grand tradition of championship‘s journal and incidentally, Mr. Rob Gordon, I am going to number my paragraphs. This in no way implies a descending order of greatness, just a little organization.

1. Work was hard. I arrived at 7 (got up at 6) on a Saturday to do spur-of-the-moment price changes that higher management implemented last week. Eh… It wouldn’t have been so bad except that I stayed up rather later than I should have last night. But the sacrifice of energy was worth it many times over. I’m just crashing tonight.

2. Finally got Paul’s car running. The transmission swap is complete, and after some minor electrical debugging, it cranked and ran fine. Just need to take care of the fact that the driver’s door doesn’t open from the inside… It’s not too fun to climb over the center console every time I need to get out of the car. Easy fix, though (especially with an identical car sitting in the driveway to cannibalize).

3. Driving home this afternoon from work, I had an epiphany concerning how great “Drowning Man” by U2 really is.

4. Spongebob is fun, but I think the prize for greatest random cartoon of all time must still go to Animaniacs. Man, I miss that show.

5. I want a road trip. 3+ months is too long without a good road trip. Hmm. I suppose all these hours at work are going to count for something. After some judicious budgeting, I might get my road trip soon enough. I know it’s bad, though, when I crack open the atlas just for kicks and purposefully read encyclopedia entries about other states and countries, skipping the intervening entries. Wait, I do that anyway. Yeah.

“John Blanchard stood up from the bench, straightened his Army uniform, and studied the crowd of people making their way through Grand Central Station. He looked for the girl whose heart he knew, but whose face he didn’t, the girl with the rose.

“His interest in her had begun thirteen months before in a Florida library. Taking a book off the shelf he found himself intrigued, not with the words of the book, but with the notes penciled in the margin. The soft handwriting reflected a thoughtful soul and insightful mind. In the front of the book, he discovered the previous owner’s name, Miss Hollis Maynell. With time and effort he located her address. She lived in New York City. He wrote her a letter introducing himself and inviting her to correspond. The next day he was shipped overseas for service in World War II. During the next year and one month the two grew to know each other through the mail. Each letter was a seed falling on a fertile heart. A romance was budding. Blanchard requested a photograph, but she refused. She felt that if he really cared, it wouldn’t matter what she looked like.

“When the day finally came for him to return from Europe, they scheduled their first meeting ­ 7:00 p.m. at the Grand Central Station in New York. ‘You’ll recognize me,’ she wrote, ‘by the red rose I’ll be wearing on my lapel.’

“So at 7:00 he was in the station looking for a girl whose heart he loved, but whose face he’d never seen.

“I’ll let Mr. Blanchard tell you what happened:

“‘A young woman was coming toward me, her figure long and slim. Her blonde hair lay back in curls from her delicate ears; her eyes were blue as flowers. Her lips and chin had a gentle firmness, and in her pale green suit she was like springtime come alive. I started toward her, entirely forgetting to notice that she was not wearing a rose. As I moved, a small, provocative smile curved her lips. ‘Going my way, sailor?’ she murmured. Almost uncontrollably I made one step closer to her, and then I saw Hollis Maynell.

“‘She was standing almost directly behind the girl. A woman well past 40, she had graying hair tucked under a worn hat.. She was more than plump, her thick­ ankled feet thrust into low­ heeled shoes. The girl in the green suit was walking quickly away. I felt as though I was split in two, so keen was my desire to follow her, and yet so deep was my longing for the woman whose spirit had truly companioned me and upheld my own.

“‘And there she stood. Her pale, plump face was gentle and sensible, her gray eyes had a warm and kindly twinkle. I did not hesitate. My fingers gripped the small worn blue leather copy of the book that was to identify me to her. This would not be love, but it would be something precious, something perhaps even better than love, a friendship for which I had been and must ever be grateful.

“‘I squared my shoulders and saluted and held out the book to the woman, even though while I spoke I felt choked by the bitterness of my disappointment. ‘I’m Lieutenant John Blanchard, and you must be Miss Maynell. I am so glad you could meet me; may I take you to dinner?’ The woman’s face broadened into a tolerant smile. ‘I don’t know what this is about, son,’ she answered, ‘but the young lady in the green suit who just went by, she begged me to wear this rose on my coat. And she said if you were to ask me out to dinner, I should go and tell you that she is waiting for you in the big restaurant across the street. She said it was some kind of test!’ It’s not difficult to admire Miss Maynell’s wisdom.’

“The true nature of a heart is seen in its response to the unattractive. ‘Tell me whom you love,’ Houssaye wrote, ‘And I will tell you who you are.'”

I really should be writing my Ephesians paper… It’s due tomorrow at 9 p.m. I have a few ideas, but nothing concrete yet. *sigh* Car group this morning was great… A bunch of guys showed, albeit late, and we worked on Tim and Matt’s car for a little bit. The four-barrel Holley carb is having issues with random fuel gushers all over the hot intake manifold, so we thought it best to just leave it alone and let them tinker with it at home. They have extra parts and theories as to why it was doing what it was doing, so, yeah… I taught about clutches and explained how the carburetors on the Datsun work. I just had to share those little marvels of engineering.

David’s play was last night. He was great. It’s a one-act that kind of chronicles a day in the life of a high school girl and the frustrations she goes through… Her desperation deteriorates to the point where she’s considering taking her life, but her grandmother talks her out of it by sharing her own experiences and sharing what it is that we do have to live for–Jesus Christ. It was poignant and powerful. David had a bit part as one of the “villains”–the jerk boyfriend who takes advantage of her. I’ll admit, it was a bit of jolt to my system to see him acting in that sort of role, but that in itself speaks of how well he did. He’s a talented kid.

Took the elevator to the top story of DH Hill library earlier tonight… I was looking for members of my church’s college group, but they were elusive. I was determined to revisit the ninth floor again, though, before I left. Stepping off the elevator onto the sterile floor, only my steps resonated through the silence tended by books all around. I could hear the hum of the air conditioners on the floor above me, and their monotony lent the experience a feeling not unlike that of being on an airplane. I walked up to the tall window and cupped my hands around my face to shut out the glare of the overhead lights. My nose touched the cold pane. The gloom of the dark rain gave the scene a glossy contrast, and I could see scattered windows glowing in the night and distant lights blinking through the mist. There was a street corner far below, illuminated by a single street light. Intermittently, cars would curl lazily around the edge of the corner, skishing around the curb, wipers giving a casual flap or two… They emerged from the night into the presence of the light and passed out into forgetfulness just as quickly. I thought about the street corner’s eternal present, destined to pour light into a lonely moment in the rain while many episodes of unknown life drove through unawares. But what could they have done? From their perspective the light was a momentary blessing; it would do neither them nor anything else good to stop, step out into the night, and praise the light, or even to stop at the corner and ponder the blessing in a thankful manner. It’s a trivial thing, really, but sometimes the off moments of life are brought into the light, those moments even the artists overlook and fail to magnify, and in that instant, the profoundly ordinary assumes worlds of hidden depth, and those times we consciously treasure are in turn lifted up even higher…

The get-together went great… We had such a good time. Donald, Leslie, and Pam came, and Paul hung out with us too. Pam even made an apple pie with special type of frosting for us as well. I had a piece, believe it or not, though I think the mass of it is lost among the throes of cookies that are residing in my stomach too. Leslie brought her pictures from Europe, where she was for the six months prior to a couple of weeks ago. She showed us photographs from Belfast, and from Scotland, as well as all over Scandinavia.

We’ll have to get together again, making more of an event of it this time. ‘Twas a fun evening.

Got to run the chipper/shredder today… Despite the fact that it was a mild testosterone rush to feed it leaves and yard waste and have it chew them up and spit their remains out quite unceremoniously, it was hard work. The machine won’t just accept the brush any old way, and the commotion it transmitted to my hands would have absolutely torn them up had I not been wearing gloves. I had a huge pile of mulch when all was said and done.

I’m enjoying life, all things considered. I have no romantic interests, just friends, and wonderful ones at that. The freedom that I feel is of equal relish to the sense of responsibility I feel when I’m in a relationship, that is to say, just because I feel unattached and slightly liberated doesn’t make the prospect of having someone else in my life unattractive; it’s just where I am now, and I’m living in it. In a lot of ways, with my newfound motivation, I feel the same sense of possibilities opening up before me as I did at the end of school a year ago, and with the coming of the Christmas season, the months ahead look very bright indeed. Good things are coming my way. God wants to do great things in and through me.

Sleep well, everyone.

Beth Orton’s “Don’t Need a Reason” is beautiful.

I love my friends. It was great to see Leslie again after her having been away for six months in Ireland. We’ll have to catch up this week sometime now that she’s likely de-jetlagged.

I want to room with Donald and Joe. I need to get out of the house. It’s not a frustration with my family–on the contrary, they’ve been more than wonderful. On my own, though, I would have much more motivation to be self-disciplined and really seek out opportunities. I want to find something cheap, and with Christian guys, however. Yes, those are prerequisites. I’ll call Donald about it tomorrow. I haven’t hung out with him in a while. I should–we get along famously when we do.

My car group went great yesterday in spite of the fact that only two guys showed, brothers. Everyone else was on a retreat or was grounded or at a football game or some such thing, so their excuses are legitimate, not that they just don’t like me :o) Tim and Matt came at 10 and I drove with them back to their house, where they have a pair of late-seventies Chevy Monte Carlos. Visualize a pimp car, and you will have the proper perspective. One of them, actually, is a convertible, painted a sparkly purple, and has the interior completely upholstered in a cushy blue fabric. Matt has said that everywhere he parks it Mexican guys just fall over each other making him offers for the car, in spite of its ratty condition… I can definitely see that happening. We had a great time getting the other one running, though. I’ll spare you the fascinating technical details, suffice it to say Tim was elated when it finally started and ran, even if it was dripping fuel on the intake manifold and exhaust was only coming out of one tailpipe and it blew a geyser of a backfire when we finally shut it off. It ran, and that was the point… He was hooting and hollering, and I could completely identify with him. For all you psychology majors out there, it was a classic male bonding moment :o) It was a good day.

Installment Two

Movie quote of the day:

“Now they will tremble again–at the sound of our silence.”

Name that movie!

The first installment, in no particular order

Reeeally tired. Loads to tell you all about this weekend, though. I attended an “Explore Workshop” in Chicago presented by a missionary sending agency called TEAM. The general theme of the attendees was that they were contemplating overseas missions in some way, and the point of the workshop was to give information on the whole scope of missionary life, but in an interactive way. I had the best time. God is amazing and awesome and, well… read Romans 8:28 :o)

I will tell all you wonderful people about it tomorrow. For now, goodnight.

Movie quote of the day:

“What can we do, Barnes? Put a man at the airport?”

Name that movie!

What a thoroughly gray day… I’ve almost got my trip to Chicago this weekend squared away. I just need to get this pastoral reference to someone, then I’ll be set. I’m really looking forward to it. I know it’s going to be helpful.

David came over earlier today so that we could tinker with our respective cars a bit. He’s the only other person I know who is as fanatically obsessive about car noises as I am. When they occur in my car, I’m like a man possessed. I have to hunt down the noise and put an end to it. It was good to hang out with him a bit and just chat.

My toe is turning colors from yesterday. Fortunately it’s my “ring toe” so it doesn’t affect movement too much, and I can still move it, so it’s not broken. It’s just a rather dark shade of violet and quite tender. I should probably ice it some.

Jammed my toe playing ultimate today at the church picnic… Otherwise it was great fun, even if I didn’t get to eat the first-place chili. I was full anyhow from a big lunch.

I’ve become re-addicted to Star Trek: TNG after discovering that TNN has Trek marathons pretty much every weeknight. I’ve even cracked open my Star Trek Encyclopedia again and thumb through it during commercial breaks and such. I knew cable TV would be our downfall. I’ve got to snap out of it… But at least it’s reasonably worthwhile programming, right?

To bed with me.

It’s late.

Someone else got the Sanford job I interviewed for a couple of weeks ago. They hired somebody that knew the interviewer, and someone who had Caterpillar experience. It’s all about who you know… *sigh*

I’m not as bummed out as I could be, though. David’s senior night soccer game was earlier this evening, and I made posters for both coaches composed of a collage of photos of all the seniors (“action shots”). It went over really well, which I was happy to see, something that only reaffirmed the sneaky suspicion that I may have a gift for this graphic design stuff. Maybe my standards aren’t high enough, or maybe they’re just right? I’ve never drawn a sketch in an industrial design setting that I’ve been really satisfied with, and neither am I totally secure in these 2D designs I put together, but I’m a lot more pleased with the way the graphic stuff turns out, which gives me confidence, which in turn leads to better designs and a motivation to press forward in my acquisition of knowledge. I can make stuff look good.

The song came and went
Like the times that we spent
Hiding out from the rain under the carnival tent
I laughed and she’d smile
It would last for awhile
You don’t know what you got till you lose it all again

Listen to the mandolin rain
Listen to the music on the lake
Listen to my heart break every time she runs away
Listen to the banjo wind
A sad song drifting low
Listen to the tears roll
Down my face as she turns to go

Bruce Hornsby — Mandolin Rain

We traveled quite a bit while we were in Europe. Living near Nice puts one close to many countries with architectural relics, works of art, and generally many areas very appealing for parents with an affinity for travel and a mind to expose their children to things they would only otherwise read about in books.

One such excursion took us south down the Italian peninsula to the little town of Sorrento, across the bay from the city of Naples, and very close to the Isle of Capri. Naples has a low shore, but as the coast curves around the bay, the edge of the land rises up into sheer cliffs dozens of feet off the surface of the water and rocky, the breaking edge of the earth covered by windswept trees and grasses farther up the hill from the water. Sorrento is perched on the edge of a cliff, a town assailed by tourists, to be sure, but effective in holding off most of the shameless pandering that other towns have succumbed to.

We stayed in a hotel situated on the edge, in other words, one of the faces of the building melded into the cliff, and from a distance on the water only balconies and windows distinguished the hotel from the surface of cliff below it. Quays and docks floated below, just behind a breakwater to keep the waves from overturning the small population of dinghies and assorted craft. We were on the second or third floor in the hotel, with two rooms, one facing inland, towards the town, and one with the most unabashedly beautiful of all views over the bay, towards Naples on the right, mount Vesuvius peering above the layer of smog that blanketed the city across the bay, and the Mediterranean on the left, the coastline winding away and out of sight. From the balcony one could see around the edge of the hotel, up the hill above the town.

During the day the view was of a nature that would make every beautiful chord of music well up within you and you approached the window, but at night, at night… The rest of my family was occupied in the other hotel room; I was alone, reading by the lamplight. I felt the breeze on my bare feet, and turned around to see the long white curtains, hung from the high doors, brush outward from the base, from the wind’s breath. I bookmarked my novel and stepped through the white sheets onto the balcony, and my hands curled around the painted wrought iron of the railing as I looked. The lights from Naples, across the bay, quivered through the invisible smog and lingering heat of the day, and the moon above shone an insubstantial path on the water far below. I could smell the faint salt, and hear the broken waves lapping against the hulls moored to the networks of quays. The breeze brushed through my hair again and again as I stood, my fingers working their way through the intricacies of the railing. I turned around to look up the hill, and though the bright moon illuminated branches here and there, small lights dotted the land as it curved both ways, south out of sight to my left, and around towards the city on my right.

The spectacle was complete, a momentary condensation, a portrait of the ancient world we lived in for many years. I admire natural beauty as well, but that time was unique, with the air, and the fabric of the curtains, and the sensations playing around the fingertips of my mind. I guard memories like that and nurture them with care, because they become me, and are all I really have from then, “Moments in time, like tears in the rain.”

Am I the only one who thinks the PFR song “Last Breath” absolutely rocks? The succession of chords at the end of the song is just great, solid rock, then the song dissolves and crashes into feedback and apocalyptic guitar wails, underscoring the message of the song. On the album, it melts into “Life Goes On,” no slouch of a song in itself. They’re just a great pair of overlooked songs.

The job rigamarole continues. While waiting to hear back from my original interviewer, I’ll be interviewing for another position in the same plant… If you look at the situation in just the right light, it’s almost like they’re fighting over me. Heh. Me and my delusions of grandeur… They’re “determined to put me to work somewhere,” (their words) though, so it’s nice to be appreciated.

Nannying is done. The kids’ mom and dad arrived safely last night after a 5-hour delay. They were exhausted. I was happy to make most of the conversation driving them home, as they appeared to be in that glazed-over-with-tiredness mood. Praise Him that they got in safely, though, with no mishaps other than the delay.

Good morning all. *hears echo from the multitudes (okay, four. maybe): “Good morning, Matt!”* The weekend was a lot of fun. Friday evening I attended a get-together for the college group from my church, a cookout by the pool of the leaders’ apartment complex. Donald’s really starting to become a good friend. He’s into bikes, whereas I’m into cars, but we share enough common mechanical knowledge to have great conversations. We went to a movie night at Luis’ apartment last night and commented on Tombstone the whole time. I think you know that your sense of humor lines up with someone else’s when you can rip on a movie in progress (not too often, mind you) and they actually laugh. In any case, the party on Friday night was great; even the mosquitoes enjoyed themselves.

Afterwards I drove two guys from my Saturday morning car group to a monthy meeting of the Mazda Sports Car Club of NC, whose name sounds more lofty and official than the actual turnout at the meeting would indicate. Nevertheless, Nick and Mike, after being slightly confused and thoroughly debunked in all their Fast and the Furious-related aspirations concerning cars, achieved a state of automotive nirvana when given rides in a member’s immaculate 3rd-generation RX-7. It was actually quite amusing to witness their transformation from smug Vin Diesels-in-training to knock-kneed, slack-jawed puddles of automotive ecstasy, overcome with the smooth brutality of the most desirable Mazda’s accelerative prowess. I had fun talking to the guys, too.

Saturday night was a hoot, but not on account of Elyse’s wonderful pasta dinner. A group of us watched a Chinese vampire movie, which, if you haven’t seen one, is enlightening in terms of the peculiar idiosycrasies the Chinese assign vampires, such as, they may only hop, feet together, in order to move, and placing a small piece of paper containing Chinese characters on their forhead will “deactivate” them (but of course some of them will still twitch). If this sounds messed up to you, you’re on track. In its favor, though, the movie did contain a good deal more than its more elemental American counterparts, namely some decent suspense, the obligatory martial arts, humor, a smattering of romance, and even some touching scenes playing up the virtues of family values, even among bloodthirsty vampires. ‘Twas fun. Thank you Elyse.

Yesterday Jake (6) and I had a Lego war, something I’ve not done in eons. After showing Jake our stash of boxes upon boxes of Legos, I became more engrossed than I had intended in the process of creating a worthy spacecraft. It had to be perfect, you see, bristling with weaponry while still maintaining the fragile aesthetic balance warships often have. Jake just slapped some Legos together, and I think got a little impatient with my singlemindedness. In any event, he won the war due to a brilliant sortie by his largest spacecraft, armed to the teeth with (what else?) 19 lightsaber-wielding Jedi knights perched on the wings, which (obviously) deflected any incoming laser bolts I fired, trying to stave off the imminent destruction of my base. It was a bit of a pyrrhic victory for him, though, as I had already destroyed his main base and was on my merry way to vanquish his “secret” one when the unfortunate encounter with his ship occurred. Next time, next time…